The Last Dance
by karma67
Summary: Every student is overjoyed at the last Hogwarts dance except for Neville, who's had far too much on his plate to feel the least bit happy. Can some affection from a unique young student change his miserable year around?


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related character belong to J. K. Rowling.**

Shut up, I know it's a bit crappy with a bleh kinda ending, but I'm proud of it. It's just a short little fluff fanfic I made cuz I'm stuck in a writer's block with the one I'm working on currently. (Yeah, I quit my Pirates of the Caribbean one. So sue me.) Hope ya like!

Neville smiled good-naturedly as the couples danced across the Hogwarts grounds by the Quidditch field. It was the End of Year Dance and Hagrid, who was made the Hogwarts Headmaster in Dumbledore's will, insisted that it would be hosted outside. The day had broken to night, revealing a handsome blue-black sky with a few glittering stars. It was a rather warm night, and the air was fragranced with the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine. Whether the grounds were bewitched to smell like this or if it was just the beauty of the season Neville did not know nor care. This was his last day, and it was just settling in that he was going to leave Hogwarts forever, and there was no turning back. _This must have been how Harry, Ron, and Hermione felt before they left_, he thought to himself.

Rumors broke out about how the trio left to fight off Voldemort the very first day of school when Hogwarts' three heroes didn't arrive. Neville felt rather ashamed that he hadn't done the same. After all, he had always wanted to get his revenge on Voldemort, and here he was being the perfect little schoolboy his grandmother wished him to be. _So much for being the hero_, he thought bitterly.

Aside from his shame, his year had been a complete and absolute disaster. The new teacher who was Snape's replacement made his predecessor seem like a saint. Professor Bogworth didn't bother to be like the cold-hearted yet somewhat mature Snape. He, unlike Snape, openly laughed pointed at Neville whenever the poor student would make the slightest mistake. "Longbottom," he would say in his wheezy voice, "your parents would be humiliated. You're lucky they're so crazy they barely remember you." Not even the cruel Pansy Parkinson laughed at Neville then, both before and after he broke down into tears. In fact, she actually seemed a bit sorry for him. The very fact that his enemies began to feel sympathy for him made him feel even worse.

"Neville?" He turned around to see the pretty redheaded girl who seemed to be the only one who had a worse year than Neville. As popular as she was, she was often found roaming the hallways alone. She had fallen a long way, from being the life of the party to a depressing empty shell.

"Yes?"

"Could you move a bit? I think Brian is calling me." _It's official_, he thought to himself as he moved out the way so she could dance with the tall attractive brunette, _I have definitely had the worst year._ Neville sighed and moved to a group of pimply boys with inch-thick glasses.

"Hey, Neville," one red-faced boy greeted him. "Couldn't get a date?" Neville shook his head. "Well, most of the girls here aren't that much to look at, anyway," he said as if this would lighten Neville's mood.

"They're alright," he said. He watched the other students dance. Some he could see were so in love that they could barely tell that there was anyone else in the world. Oh, how he envied those people. He felt like he was standing outside a glass cage looking in, but never truly understanding the lovers inside. He clenched his fists and looked away. _Even Hagrid's fallen in love with that French woman. _

"Haven't got a beau, Longbottom?" a familiar arrogant wheezy voice asked. Neville looked up to see a tall thin man with slick blonde hair that had a few streaks of grey.

"Hello, Professor Bogworth," he said miserably.

"Isn't it a pity that you can't share such a lovely night with some one you care for?" He laughed out loud. "You must feel terrible."

"And you're _definitely _making me feel so much better," Neville nearly snapped. He didn't care how he treated teachers now. After all, it was the last day he was going to see them. Professor Bogworth seemed stunned at Neville's reaction. With that, Neville turned on his heels and walked in the opposite direction.

"Neville?" someone called his name. He spun around.

"Yeah?" he said wearily. Luna Lovegood stood before him. She wore a red-and-purple dress which she had clearly made herself. The thread that held it together was bright pink, and the collar was lopsided. As if to make up for this, she tied an olive green sash around her waist. Her straggly blonde hair which was usually found hanging at her waist was tied up into a sloppy bun, save for a few locks of hair that had escaped and fell over her left eye and a portion of her nose. And was it just Neville growing desperate, or was she just pretty today?

"Hullo!" she said cheerfully. Neville sighed. Not only was he alone at a dance, but he was stuck talking to a (surprisingly pretty) crazy girl.

"Hello, Luna. You look nice," he said truthfully.

"You don't sound happy," she observed, and with that she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Neville stared at her, his face a deep crimson. Luna, on the other hand did not seem nearly as sheepish as Neville. In fact, she smiled as if she had done nothing but shake his hand. "You looked like you needed that," she said in her usual dreamy voice.

"Oh, well, er, you see, I was, um, sure." Neville hated how he would babble at awkward moments. The part he despised the most about this was that he wouldn't and couldn't stop. "Uh, would you, uh, sometime after dance, er, the, uh, _mmph_!" Neville suddenly felt Luna's lips press against his own. Whether she did it because she wanted to, or to simply shut him up, he didn't know, but when they parted Neville noticed she looked a bit pink too. He finally found his voice. "Did I need that too?" Luna laughed.

"Only a little bit, but I did that one mostly for me," she said with a small smile. Neville laughed nervously. "But that silly smile on your face makes me think that you needed it more than I thought." Neville didn't even notice his smile until she pointed it out. He now tried to stop it by talking, which immediately transformed to his babbling.

"Yeah, so, er, did you really, er, I just wanted to know, um, if—"

"Do you wanna dance?" Waltz music was playing pleasantly in the backround, and the students twirled as if in a choreographed ballet. Neville didn't want to ruin the lovely dance so he simply smiled and said,

"I don't know how to waltz. Sorry."

"Well, that makes two of us," Luna said as she pulled him into the group of graceful dancers.

Neville wasn't sure if it was just him, but something happened that night. Between standing up to the world's cruelest teacher and kissing Luna, there was a magic he felt that night that had absolutely nothing to do with being a wizard. For the first time that day—in his whole year as a matter of fact—Neville truly felt like everything was going to be for the better. The food he ate, the air he breathed, everything seemed a bit fresher, a tad bit more new. Though it wasn't much, he was still joyful, because for once in his life, the world just seemed a little bit brighter.


End file.
